


you don't like me.

by carnalhouse, neotheatre (carnalhouse)



Series: call it dreaming. [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aromantic Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Autistic Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist is on the Aromantic Spectrum, M/M, They/Them Jon, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, also tim hates jon at first he gets better, autistic jonathon simms, jon & tim QPR MOMENCE!!!!!!, nothing bad happens no fear powers au, queer platonic relationship, tim is sex repulsed and i could murder you if you tried to disagree with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:09:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnalhouse/pseuds/carnalhouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnalhouse/pseuds/neotheatre
Summary: tim can't handle parties and he detests jon for stealing sashas job.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Series: call it dreaming. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174691
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	you don't like me.

**Author's Note:**

> hey bestie! this is an au where nothing bad happens and fear powers aren't real. elias isn't jonah magnus he's just an asshole stoner that runs a library. tim and jon are both arospec & neurodivergent and i will bite kill attack and maim you on that! tim gets better about hating jon. if you want to disagree abt anything i say i have the ability to cry and im not afraid to use it <3 thank u
> 
> warning! there r depictions of a panic attack in this. there are also unhealthy coping mechanisms such as avoiding those trying to help you and mentions of sex repulsion (nothing explicit sexually)

tim doesn't know how he got here.

ok, well, that's a lie. he had dragged sasha out, trying to get her out of her humble "i didn't deserve the spot" attitude. she should have been the head librarian! instead some researcher from the college campus looking for a job where they could use their work time studying just, just prances in, and steals sashas dream position at the library she's put blood, sweat, and work into making it the best a library can be.

and jonathon simms had walked into an internship, and was chosen by the owner to be the head librarian. all within a week. to say the least, tim had been pissed when he heard sasha hadn't even complained. it wasn't fair that she didn't get the job!

at the moment, though, tim sat on the staircase of someone's home (he didn't know who's) with a red solo cup in one hand and his other arm wrapped around his knees. truthfully, he hated parties. they made him think of his brother, he'd always been the more likeable and sociable one when it came to parties, surprising, i know.

tim didn't like the lights and the amount of noise, it made him feel like there was static beneath his skin about to consume him until he couldn't move, he'd be numb and turn into a statue of fuzzy limbs and torso.

he didn't even look up from the spot he had chosen on the wall across the large living room when he was bumped into, the drink in his cup spilling over the side onto the floor. lucky him that it didn't hit his clothes or shoes.

he did, however, look at the person when they decided to stand right in front of him and block his spot. he blinked, probably uncomfortably slowly for jon, and made eye contact.

once it clicked who's face was staring him down, in a curious way tim decided to take as condescending, he set his face into a scowl. he set his cup down in the middle of the stairway, standing up and turning to go up the staircase. he flipped jon off as he walked away, not caring less what sort of "workplace dispute" he might start. they weren't in the workplace, so did it really matter?

if he were to look back, he would've seen jon standing there with their mouth slightly agape, offended look on their face. he didn't look back.

the hallway in the home of the person he didn't know was uncomfortably warm, a sinking feeling in tims stomach with every door that he almost opened before hearing whatever was happening inside. his now blank expression was slowly turning into one of discomfort and disgust. 

he didn't want to be here anymore, he realized. but he couldn't just leave, he didn't know where sasha was and last she texted him she'd been having a great time. he couldn't just stop her fun because he had run out of energy to stay in a house with strangers doing god knows what in every room, just because he'd run into the exact person he was here to get away from. that wasn't fair.

finally, finally, tim finds a bathroom. he steps inside, twisting the lock until it clicks and he knows he's safe. he takes a deep breath, and just how much he's in over his head hits him. the sick feeling in his stomach and the pounding in his head and the oncoming tears in his eyes are enough for him to sit on this strangers bathroom floor. he ignores the feeling of uncertainty that comes with it, it looks clean enough.

he presses his palms to his ears as his limbs become stuff, trying (and failing) to block out the pulsing, muffled music and sound of people.

he takes out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media and ignoring the way his eyes blur and his chest aches. he waits it out, barely holding on until the unbearable lump in his throat goes down and the shock stiffness of his spine lessens before he pulls himself off the floor. he checks his phone, only now looking at the time. it's been an hour since he was on the staircase. 

he realizes someone's knocking on the door now. shit.

he scrambles up, looking in the mirror and trying to decide if his eyeliner looks streaked enough to be embarrassing. deciding it doesn't, he takes a deep breath before flipping the lock and opening the door. 

of course. he tilts his head down to jon, he's too tired to work up a proper frown, but he tries his best. 

as he moves past them, jon grabs his arm.

(just a little too tight for comfort, it feels like a vice which is surprising for someone who looks like they'd fall over in a strong gust of wind.)

he gulps, the feeling of static where jon touches him getting worse by the second as he tries, and fails yet again, to keep proper eye contact with jon. he looks at their shoulder, following the stitches and pattern of the knitted sweater they're wearing. 

jons talking. tim knows that. he can hear them, but the words don't get through his little bubble while at the same time they're too loud. they finally take their hand off of him and some semblance of okay-ness comes back to him, just enough to hear what they're saying.

"–okay, tim? is there anything i can do to help you?"

tim doesn't even particularly he's shaking his head to even give jon an answer till they pause and look a bit more worried then before. he hates it. it feels like pity.

he, once again, tries to walk off away from jon. he once again fails, for the nth time that night. he can hear their footsteps, they echo in his head even over the blasting, insufferable, music and the voices all around him.

can't they just leave him alone? couldn't they extend the one courtesy tim had given of just walking away? 

apparently not, given tim had shouldered his way past enough people to make it through the open doorway and he could still feel jons gaze on his back, burning. he hadn't even ran into sasha. he fished his keys from his pocket, trying to remember where he parked his car as he ignored jons questions and worrying (no, he tells himself, it's pitying) look. 

when he heard the beep-beep of his car being locked, it felt like the trumpets of heaven.

he walked faster, still ignoring the questions and statements and every word jon said, it was too much, too much, too much for him.

he unlocked his car and swang open the door, hastily moving into the seat and starting his car. he didn't even bother to put on his seatbelt as he pulled out of the lot he had parked in, making sure that at least he didn't hit jon with his car.

he took one last look back and almost started crying again at the worried (pitying, pitying, pitying) look on their face. he'd text sasha once he was a few blocks away and could pull over without having to think about jon being there. 

he didn't like to think about the newer sinking feeling in his stomach that had started when he saw jon standing there, looking at him through their glasses like a deer in the headlights.


End file.
